A Countdown Meme

Long ago in a galaxy far away (and by "far away" I mean our galaxy) I ran across a meme here that I thought was interesting. I mean, the countdown concept is interesting. I can't decide whether to do it as is, or to change it to an entertainment-oriented meme. Perhaps I shall do both.

Yes.

Both it is.

TEN Random Things about Me:

1. I love to play Trivial Pursuit but I can never get anyone to play it with me. Boooooo, everyone!
2. If I take a shower before I go to bed, I can't sleep unless I've done a satisfactory job washing my ears. An unattended-to ear can make the whole rest of me feel gross.
3. I once seriously thought I was going to marry Jonathan Brandis. (The story about how we met (a meeting which was unsatisfactorily one-sided) has to do with Stephen King movies and scary clowns and that's all I have to say about that. Boooo, scary clowns!) And I was surprisingly sad when he died.
4. I also thought I was going to marry Ralph Macchio, but I wasn't as serious about it.
5. I was raised on country music and was a big singer when I was little (like, three.) My repertoire included songs like Only Daddy That'll Walk the Line by Waylon Jennings (lyrics, iTunes), Tiger by the Tail by Buck Owens (lyrics), The Gambler by Kenny Rogers (lyrics, iTunes) and Brown-Eyed Handsome Man by Waylon Jennings (lyrics, iTunes). But when I was 10 and I saw the video for Pour Some Sugar On Me by Def Leppard (lyrics, iTunes), I vowed that I'd never listen to country music again. I totally broke that vow, of course.
6. I'd rather eat raw batter or dough than the actual cooked confection. Mia says that my microbiology degree makes my raw batter-eating like a drug counselor who does crack. Heh.
7. When I was 16, I was kicked out of JCPenney for aiding and abetting an acappella performance of Do Ya Think I'm Sexy (lyrics, iTunes). I felt really bad about it and went back with another friend (not the singing one) and apologized.
8. I used to argue with people because I was convinced that the lyrics to Rock Me Amadeus by Falco (lyrics, iTunes) included the words "potato salad".
9. When I was about four, I threw a giant rock backwards and hit my cousin in the head. Ooops. Maybe that's the unfortunate incident that turned him into Discoman™.
10. When I was little, I was absolutely terrified of hippopotamuses.

NINE Ways to Win My Heart:

1. If you say you're going to be right back, then for crying out loud, don't leave by the back way.
2. Don't smoke, drink, or swear.
3. Be a faithful Christian.
4. Be honest.
5. Make me laugh, clown!
6. Be responsible, but be fun too.
7. Love your momma and the rest of your family.
8. Buy me flowers or a card just because it's Tuesday.
9. Remember what I wore on our first date.

EIGHT Things I Want To Do Before I Die:

1. Run a marathon.
2. Sell some of my photographs, or have them published.
3. Raise kids who love the Lord and are responsible and honest people.
4. Lead as many people to Christ as He sends my way.
5. Visit Israel.
6. Be a prepared mind, a pair of hands, and a heart that God can work through to ease the suffering of as many people as possible.
7. Figure out two more things that I want to do before I die.

SEVEN Ways to Annoy Me:

1. Pull out RIGHT in front of me and then drive 20 m.p.h. below the speed limit.
2. Go through a drive-thru and order something that is not only ridiculously complicated, but it's also hard to articulate. On a sunny day when you could have easily gone inside instead. And then pay in pennies, while I slowly dehydrate in the car behind you.
3. Be this guy that I work with who manages to annoy me with almost every single thing he does - like be lazy, and dishonest, and rude, have a sense of entitlement, and take advantage of everything that anyone does for you.
4. Cheat. On a test, on a person, whatever.
5. Ask me to sit down at a concert. Grrrrrrr!
6. Every time you use your turn signal, leave it on for at least ten miles (or until my head explodes, whichever comes first.)
7. Get in the passing lane on the interstate and drive EXACTLY the speed limit.

SIX Embarrassing Moments:

Silly, most of them that I can remember are still embarrassing so I'm not going to tell the whole world! There are a couple, though -

1. When I was in 7th grade, I was wearing this new outfit and was having good hair and thought I was amazingly cool. So I went strolling past the guy from the other day's post, thinking that he would just faint dead away from my beauty, or something. He said, "Hey Kim, c'mere." Well, I almost fainted dead away at that. I went over to him and he said, "What's two and two?" I said, "Uh, what?" He said, "What's two and two?" I said, "Uh, four?" He said, "What's two and two?" I finally just stared at him blankly, and then he said, "Your pants are unzipped." Aaaaarrrghhh! I wanted to disappear. And to this day, 1.90 college degrees later, I still have no idea what "two and two" has to do with a pair of unzipped pants. If anyone can figure it out, please enlighten me.
2. I asked my high school Spanish teacher if the Spanish language used the same alphabet as English. Duh.
3. On New Year's Eve 1997, I went to church with Scott and then went back to his house to set off some fireworks. This was the first time I'd met his family and a couple of his friends. Standing on the porch step, I noticed some white stuff falling and thought it may be ashes from one of the rockets or something. So I said, "What's this white stuff falling?" It was SNOW. Scott and those friends (which are now our friends, I guess) still make fun of me over that.

FIVE Things I'm Afraid Of:

1. Willem Dafoe
2. The scary-voiced guy who does the voice overs for horror movie previews.
3. Spiders, snakes, anything with an inappropriate amount of legs. I will accept two and I will accept four. Any other amount of legs won't work for me. Spiders have altogether too many, snakes have not enough. But a three-legged dog? Now that's funny.
4. Falling down the stairs.
5. Losing one of my parents or Scott.

FOUR Favorite Items in My House:

1. My computer
2. My bed or my couch
3. My books
4. My photo albums

THREE Things I Do Everyday:

1. Brush my teeth, a lot.
2. Read something.
3. Thank God for blessing me waaaaaay beyond anything I deserve. That sounds cheesy, but I do.

TWO Things I Want To Do Right Now:

1. Remove several pounds of fat from my giant rear end/thighs and my sausage arms
2. Finish burning my mp3 collection to discs for the people I've promised - but I just can't stop adding stuff! I can't!

ONE Person I Want To See Right Now:

1. My grandmother. She died before I got a chance to ask her advice on so many things.

Holy crap, that took forever. I'll do the other version later. Tomorrow, or something. And basil, I'm fully aware of your meme tag. I'm getting to it. :-)

Blogging clogging, in lieu of actual words

For some reason, I'm having a hard time coming up with words lately. To keep this thing updated, I decided to either upload random video clips or do some gratuitous picture sharing until I find my muse again. Today you get random video clips. I just converted a clogging performance from high school (April 1997) when I'd only been dancing four months or so and therefore I don't have my floufy dress yet. Some people have told me that these clogging performances are entertaining, and I aim to please. Especially when I can't think of anything else to say.

I'm the one with the darkest hair, and the other three girls are some of my best friends from high school. One is a teacher now, one is a nurse, and one just finished law school.

If You're Not In It For Love (I'm Outta Here) by Shania Twain (~45.5MB, right-click and "save as" please)

Salty Dog Rag by ... uh, somebody. This one is really repetitive, but great cardio! (~29.5MB, right-click and "save as" please)

Jump by The Pointer Sisters. Yes, we're doing a lasso move. No, I don't know why. (~29.5MB, right-click and "save as" please)

And that is all. Hopefully I'll have something more substantial to talk about tomorrow.

When I see a pregnant woman smoking, I want to walk up to her, take the cigarette out of her hand and put it out on her eyeball. Just a little pet peeve of mine. That is all.

Okay.

Oh, is THAT what that thing is that I've been occasionally waving? At least it didn't say that I wave my underwear once in awhile - because that? I do mind doing.

You are dependable, popular, and observant.
Deep and thoughtful, you are prone to moodiness.
In fact, your emotions tend to influence everything you do.

You are unique, creative, and expressive.
You don't mind waving your freak flag every once and a while.
And lucky for you, most people find your weird ways charming!

The World's Shortest Personality Test

*waves freak flag* Look at me, I'm CHARMING!

Kit-tee!

I'm off to Scott's until Tuesday, to see him for a couple of days before he comes home for good next week. Yaaaaaaay! But before I go - kit-tee!

We've decided to name him Frisco, given that he frisks all over creation. He's a whole barrel of glee. That is all.

Maribeth at The Smart Bohemian has made me furious. FURIOUS!

I keep forgetting to say that. Do you know why I'm furious? Because she brought to my attention the existence of this:

Even if the magic of Anthony cannot penetrate your dark and hardened soul, you must admit that in a universe where Jim Verraros has been given the opportunity to record an album of dance music about gay sex (which, praise God, his parents will never hear), Anthony has a bright and prosperous future.

Why, maribeth, WHY? I thought you liked me! I thought we were friends! And now you've gone and caused a part of me to DIE! And I think it's the part that was motivated to finish my thesis!

Oh, WHYYYYYYYYY????!!!

Aside from killing a part of my innocence as well as a part of my soul, I really like maribeth's blog. And she hardly ever does that killing stuff, so I can probably forgive her, after I've gouged out my eyes with something around the lab here. Oh happy scalpel!

Because Erika cares

Last month, in the midst of a post about the Kenny Chesney/Renee Zellwegger nupitals (if I recall correctly, I had the following to say about the pairing: "So ... huh. That's ... well ... huh. Hm. Okay. Well, anyway. Whatever.") Something like that. And my reaction is unchanged. But that's not important.

What is important is that in the midst of that post, I mentioned that something about Kenny Chesney reminds me of a guy that I sort-of dated in high school, on and off, sometimes - a guy who did the crappiest thing to me that I think anyone has ever done to me. Granted, I'll admit that I've had a sheltered life, so I haven't been the recipient of much crap, thankfully. But the thing that this guy did was so inconsiderate and ... just ... mean, that he is still the reigning King of Crappiness in my world. (My ex-dermatologist who permanently scarred my face and then took advantage of my niceness and naivete runs a close second. But that's a story for another day.) When I mentioned that similarity between Do-er of Crappiness and Kenny Chesney, I said I'd share the story if anybody cared. And Erika, bless her heart, she commented, and she CARED. And, I happen to be in the mood to talk, suddenly, when I should be sleeping. So everybody wins, and nobody sleeps, and then we all go out for coffee, or something.

This actually requires a huge amount of backstory which I don't feel like reliving. So let's just say this - from the time I was in 7th grade until the time I was in 12th grade, I had a ginormous, ridiculous, and public crush on Future Do-er of Crappiness. Let's call him J. During that time, he would be interested in me for awhile (whether he really was, I don't know) and we'd talk on the phone and dance at school dances and sit around at lunch or whatever. Oh, and wrote quite a lot of letters, which I ended up burning post-crappiness. It was very cathartic.

So near the end of these periods of mutual interest, he'd decide another girl was more appealing or maybe that I was just less appealing. And then I'd cry and be broken-hearted for awhile, and then resume unrequited crush, which would end up being requited again briefly, and the cycle continued.

And there was also a stuffed duck involved, named D'Clarence, which did not get burned or otherwise maimed. Just for the record. There was also a white rose which he gave to me one day when I saw him at the mall, "to prove he was serious" about wanting to go out with me (because I was skeptical, which turned out to be smart on my part) but the rose got cut into little pieces and returned to him in a baggie when I found out he'd been telling similar things to another girl. And that was also cathartic.

J is a couple of years older than me, so he graduated when I was a sophomore but didn't really go anywhere, because he joined our high school football coaching staff, and therefore was always at football and basketball games. And I was also there because I was a cheerleader (not a slutty one, SarahK! To my knowledge, I've never been a slutty anything, which may have caused my life to be difficult at certain points. And that's totally okay.)

I'm getting sleepy so I'll jump to the crappiness now, even though I could go on for quite awhile. I have a memory like an elephant, except that I tend to remember very clearly things that people say to me that are crushing. So I guess I have a memory like an elephant with bad self-esteem, or something. Anyway, not long before I graduated (sometime in April) I saw J after school - he was at the weight room, I was probably dawdling after clogging practice just to get to see him - and he asked me out again. I ignored all the times he'd broken my heart and went, "Yay!" Internally, of course, because I am cool. Heh. And from April throughout the summer (with a short intermission while an ex-girlfriend of his went a little crazy) we hung out, we went places, we did stuff with his brother and one of my best friends*, we talked on the phone, and I was as happy as could be. We also ended up at the beach the same week, the week before I started college, and we spent a lot of time together there, along with his brother and a couple of my best friends* that were with me. It was a hoot.

But I was starting to wonder what was going on. Was he dating other girls, what did he really think of me, that type of thing - I wanted to have that scary talk, that "where is this going?" talk. So, the weekend after I started college, I went to one of my high school football away games with some friends*, and J was there because he was part of the coaching staff, and I had planned to talk to him after the game. As the team was running off of the field after the last buzzer, I caught J and asked if we could talk (I know that's a scary phrase, I know.) He said sure, for me to wait there, he was going to the locker room for the post-game stuff and he'd be back.

So my friends and I waited, speaking to old classmates as they passed us on the way to their cars. We waited, talking amongst ourselves when we were the only ones left on the field. I felt bad and tried to make them leave, thinking I'd just ride home with J - but they said they'd just wait for me. So we waited, while the stadium lights blinked off one by one and everyone was gone. By this time I was crying.

I sent one of my friends to the locker room to find out what was going on, and she was told that he'd left, going out the back gate. Left, meaning, he left. Meaning, he was gone. Without coming back to tell me.

So I was crushed, and my friends were mad. We went looking at nearby fast-food places trying to find him, to ask what he was doing by telling me to wait and then leaving by the back way. We found his brother, who said to my friend* (I was a wreck and didn't want to face anybody) "Well, they're not dating."

Oh, well, that's a satisfactory answer, except that it isn't. It's a good idea to be considerate to everybody (except maybe Osama bin Laden and Carson Daly) when obviously you're not dating everybody. Or maybe I'm just in left field with that. What on earth have I been doing? I've been trying to be considerate to most people in general, when I only have to consider people that I'm DATING? Fantastic! That's only one person! I can tell everybody else that I'll do this, or do that, or 'wait here and I'll be back', and I don't actually have to do it. Woo!

J's explanation to me, when he called, was actually that "we [weren't] dating." I don't know what it was we were doing, but it wasn't "dating" to him and therefore I didn't merit his consideration. He said that his ex-girlfriend was driving him nuts that night and that he left by the back way to get away from her. He said that he just couldn't see me as anything more than a friend. He said that I'm too good for him. I figured out later that he was right. ;-) Because there's no excuse for what he did that night. He could have sent someone to tell me, or something.

So anyway, that whole episode made me feel very small and insignificant and really, really, really, crappy. And worthless, and sad, and I became very low and very hard on myself for about two weeks.

And then, out of the blue, I met Scott. Wonderful, perfect-for-me Scott. And he is everything that J wasn't, and fulfills every need that J couldn't. Looking back on it now, all of those little "this isn't right!" feelings during that 6-year J Season were God trying to tell me, "This isn't the one for you - just let him go," but I ignored them and finally, I had to be shaken by the shoulders before I would hear, "I have someone so much BETTER for you! Custom-made to order, even! Let this one GOOOOO already!"

I'm glad I finally listened. Because I wouldn't trade Scott for 10^5 Js.

*Incidentally, the friend that I asterisked up there, the one who was with me through all of the broken hearts and the crappiness, is now Mrs. J. I know it's been several years, but that pairing still feels like a Bizarro World marriage to me. She's still a friend, and J could even be a friend, but the fact that they're together seems like the Twilight Zone. And that is all. The end. If you're still reading, I'll give you a cookie.

I finally got around to uploading a clip so that all can see Tom Cruise go nuts and jump all over Oprah's furniture. If he comes to my house, I hope it's after he has learned that big boys don't jump on the furniture, you know? What is wrong with his momma? I put the link, which is from Best Week Ever's treatment of the event, on the original Crazy Tom post here.

In that clip, there's also flashes of Paris Hilton's Carl's Jr. commercial (ew, a wet and soapy hamburger being eaten by a giant insect, tm The Superficial), Jimmy Kimmel with a fake Jay Leno chin, and Phil Spector's scary hair. Enjoy!

It's time to play - NAME .... THAT .... CAT!

I was out running last night (the first time I'd gone running since Sweetie/Cinders was killed) and we have this aluminum dish of cat food sitting beside the driveway for hungry not-really-stray cats. They're my neighbor's cats, I think, but they're always eating my cat's food so we gathered that they're hungry (I feel like an Italian mother being all, "You're-a so SKEENY!")

Last night I had seen the usual cats munching, and then I saw a wee little kitten that I hadn't seen before. I wanted to try to catch it to show Mom that we had a new visitor to our diner, and when I did, I discovered he had a big painful-looking wound on his leg, and he was limping. Since we have a cat-killing dog running loose on our property (their idiot owners think it's someone else's responsibility to keep them tied up, I guess) we couldn't leave this kitty to become dog food. So we just happened to have bought a kennel/cage-thing yesterday, in which we put a wee little litterbox and some food and water and a blanket for the night, and we took Kitty No-Name to the vet today to get his wound treated. The trip involved both poo AND barf. Nice.

Anyway, we need a name, and y'all are a creative bunch. Any ideas?

I'm horrible at naming pets. I'm beginning to understand why my grandma named all of her dogs Missy. (Which makes it confusing to talk about them later, since they were all black and white border collies named Missy.) I could steal from my friend brmaer and name him Bert and Ernie, just so I can utter the hilarious statement, "Bert and Ernie was one cat." Heh.

Bonfire of the Vanities

So we're doing a ginormous Bonfire of the Vanities, since It's a Pundit is the host this week and it's a group blog. I picked a few submissions that I found most shameful. For shame, for shame!

Jack at The People's Republic of Seabrook shows us what Paris Hilton may look like if she actually ate a whole bunch of Hardee's/Carl Jr.'s Thickburgers. And then developed an unfortunate hormone imbalance. And then put on a VERY unfortunate outfit. I'll be sending you the bill for the 10M hydrochloric acid used to rinse my eyeballs, Jack.

SF at give me spirit fingers dammit!! jumps on the very original topic of Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes. (What? I only posted about them six times in the past two days.) Except she thinks Tom has broken Katie's neck. Seems like overkill, since he's already had her brainwashed and then her soul replaced by some sort of alien blowup doll.

Russ at TacJammer wrote a jingle and wants to be beaten. With a large stick. I think just for writing a jingle. Or maybe because his jingle is to the tune of Rock Lobster. Hey, what's wrong with Rock Lobster? It's a song with great meaning - don't you watch Family Guy?

Rachael Ray says things that are NOT for the chirrun. Think of the chirrun! Merri at Merri Musings doesn't think of the chirrun, because she helpfully gathers all the suggestiveness of Chef Hussy into a handy list, for reference. What about the chirrun??? Merri probably kicks puppies too.

Mustang 23 at Assumption of Command reminds us that fecal coliforms do aerosolize with each flush. Ew, man. Why was that necessary?

William Teach at Pirate's Cove marries White Trash Wednesday with Raving Moonbattery, a pairing which removes the humor from both while accentuating the crazy and the annoying. Hey you, don't do that. Not anymore. Keep 'em separated.

And finally, for something we all want to read about, Mike at WunderKraut gives us virus-laden feces. Piles of it. Wheeee! (Incidentally, I actually was interested in this. But only because I wanted to know what virus it was. Not that that's much of an excuse.)

A full treatment of all submissions can be found at It's a Pundit.

Kim's Comprehensive List of People Who Need a Blog

1. Laurie Notaro

That's all I've got so far.

Oh, and last night? I dreamed that I yelled at someone who was German, and I think I yelled at them merely for being German. Which really doesn't sound like something I'd do, really.

My plague seems to be better - I only have to blow my nose 1,054 times per day, instead of 3,000+. So it's like I have the "pla", and not the "gue" part anymore. Yay for that.

Why I am talking so much about Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes? Why?

I don't know the answer to that question. But anyway, apparently they're engaged. (Or, Katie's transformation is almost complete, however you want to put it.) Because they're in luuuuuuurve, or whatever. And tomorrow, I'll wake up to discover that I've inadvertently turned myself into a Fraggle.

In a related story, this apparel will be funny for about five minutes, until sometime in mid-2023, when VH1 will love it: http://www.freekatie.net/ (HT: the Phat Phree)

Actually, in true VH1 fashion, they'll probably rush the vintageness of it and try to make it cool next week, with some comedian in front of a crazy background going, "Remember those 'Free Katie' shirts? Man, those were EVERYWHERE. Because Katie was all, 'Helllllp meeeeeee!'"

Which reminds me, why haven't I found a Goonies Never Say Die shirt yet? There has to be one somewhere. That really makes me mad.

I adore SNL reruns on E!. (The "!" makes it more emphatic than I mean it to be, really.) I just wish that I could catch that episode that John Goodman hosted, because he does that great Wilford Brimley sketch - you know, mocking those "you check your blood sugar and you check it often!" PSAs. Wilford Brimley makes me feel so guilty for not checking my blood sugar, and I'm not even diabetic. Anyway, I've missed that episode twice in the past couple of weeks, which makes me furious, FURIOUS!

Something else that makes me furious, FURIOUS - when someone points out that during Jimmy Fallon's last two years on SNL, he basically did nothing besides laugh at himself and do a couple of good song parodies. To those pointer-outers, I say, "So what?" SO WHAT???? I'd take five seconds of Jimmy Fallon giggling at himself over a lifetime of Fred Armisen existing. GRRRRR! Fred Armisen! *shakes fist*

Fred Armisen rage aside (incidentally, it seems like that I get nothing done these days other than putting my Fred Armisen rage aside) when I finally catch that John Goodman/Wilford Brimley sketch, I'll put up an mpeg of it. That's all.

I just realized that I left my iPod at work, plugged in and charging on one of the lab benches. I hope no one steals it. It's times like this that I'm glad I only work with about seven other people. But still, I'll be really irate if it disappears.

Speaking of the lab, sometimes I'm there on the evening that the floor guys come in and do the cleaning for the week. Once, one of the guys bumped into a table with the floor buffer, causing a bottle of media (it was something really innocuous - just a buffer with a wetting agent added) to fall in the floor. Now, those Pyrex bottles are tough - you have to be very determined (or creative) to break one. So it just hit the ground and rolled, no harm done. But the look on the guy's face was hilarious - it was this slow-motion look of horror as the bottle made its jump over the edge, and then turned into an unmistakable intent to bolt from the scene.

Even if we did have the capacity to cultivate bioterrorism agents in our lab, I'm fairly sure we would not allow them to teeter precariously on the edge of a wobbly table.

And then, there was the janitor at my school who refused to empty the garbage in the microbiology prep lab because he was convinced he'd contract HIV. Right. If that was possible, you wouldn't see me spending as much time in that lab as I did.

And I still miss my kitty. I can't decide if adopting a new one would make me feel better or not. And I still have the plague. That is all.

On clogging, mullets, and sadly, kitties who are not here

So, I've been around. I mean, not here - as you've probably noticed. I've been continuing to miss my kitty (that will continue for awhile, I think), finding an apartment (which I have decided to make into a sometimes/when I feel like it apartment), contracting the pneumonic plague (not really, it's just a nasty cold/cough), throwing in a 3-day panic attack for variety, and clogging.

Let's see, the clogging was Saturday. I was walking through the lobby of the theater where we would be performing later, and someone in the crowd was all, "There goes one! Oooooh, I'm starstruck. I love cloggers." I said, "THAT is hilarious," and then floufed along on my merry way. Because it's difficult to do anything but "flouf" this type of outfit:

I'm the one that looks like, well, me. I'm kind of in a row by myself. Anyway, during our last routine, they announced that we were going to "dance into intermission", meaning some people in the audience would be getting up and running around during the performance. My partner decided that that was rude, and he contemplated flicking a booger at anyone who left. I decided that I'd rather throw monkeys, except I didn't have any monkeys. All I had were cloggers, and none of them were light enough for me to throw. Oh well, it was a thought.

Oh, and backstage? There was a guy with a MULLET. I adore mullets, they amuse me so. So a stagehand had a mullet, and there was much giggling.

Then I had a three-day panic attack, which was not fun at all. But my doctor fixed it. And then I went to see my psychiatrist, who decided that I'll be "an excellent physician". Yay! I hope he's right. I told him that I'd try my best (along with lots of help from God) as long as I could manage to quell my panic. He said, "'Quell my panic', that's good." And then he wrote it down.

I still miss my kitty. I keep seeing him everywhere. I can't believe he's gone.

More than one kind of Simpson can irk you

I was just reading Biggeststars Blogs (the name of which really bothers me because I want the space, I need the space - and I also need the capital S) and saw the title of one post: Lindsay Lohan Item of the Week: Feuding with the Simpsons. At first I thought she had a problem with the cartoon family, and I was all, "ME TOO!" My issue is with Homer, and I shall spin the tale of my ire. Because it's my blog, and ire-spinning anywhere else just doesn't make as much sense.

In a recent episode, Flanders rents a room in his house to two girls who are supposed to be students but who actually set up a not-for-the-chirrun webcam, which Bart and his buddies discover. Hilarity ensues, because it's Flanders's house (see - "irony") and when Homer hears them giggling, he says:

What are you kids laughing at? If you say Jimmy Fallon, I'll know you're lying.

Boo, Homer! Doesn't he know that Jimmy Fallon can do no wrong? Stupid cartoon. I'd erase him but I think a lot of people would probably be mad at me.

Oh, and about Lindsay Lohan - if you care, she's mad at the Simpson sisters, but I don't have the slightest idea why. Once I saw "Ashlee" and "Jessica", I stopped reading, because the way Ashlee spells her name makes me mad. And speaking of Jessica Simpson - she's apparently back in the recording studio. Which is funny, because about a year ago, I distinctly remember issuing a decree that she apologize to Robbie Williams AT LEAST 52 times in succession for that horrific remake of Angels (lyrics, iTunes). And I also decreed that when she finished with that apology, she should repeat the sequence, forever and then into infinity times two. So I'm surprised that she has any time to record.

Tom Cruise is still nuts, I may be starting to panic, and Discoman is trademarked throughout in an attempt to be funny by overusing the TM symbol

Grieving over a loved pet makes you lose weight. It also makes you feel guilty for starting to feel better. And, it makes you ramble to get your mind on something that doesn't induce guilt. Like Tom Cruise, for example.

Tom Cruise is completely berserko and/or on crack. One of these days, I'm going to write a big post and complain about those pseudo-religious scientologists harping about people who take psychiatric drugs for "fake" illnesses like depression or panic attacks. I'm not in the mood right now, though.

Speaking of panic attacks, see that little countdown in yonder sidebar? Hark! It says 60 days until medical school orientation. I'm excited, in a "I'm gonna throw up" kind of way. I don't want the panic to come back. I don't. I'm afraid that it will, and then I'll screw everything up - kind of like Fred Armisen screwed up SNL. GRRRRRRRR, Fred Armisen. *shakes fist* Anyway, Fred Armisen rage aside - I have to remind myself that the scholarship committee at my school gave me a scholarship because they said I have "excellent potential for a career in medicine". So, either that's true, or I'm a fantastic actress. And I'm totally not a fantastic actress. I know because I was in a trilogy of no-budget indie home movies films (the Discoman™ trilogy) when I was about 12, created/produced/directed by/starring my cousins an elite group of talent, who threw me in front of the camera just because I was there handpicked me to play several characters. Do you know what I did that brands me as a terrible actress? I waved at my grandma. During what was supposed to be the death scene of one of my characters. And also, I can NOT summon a scream of horror on cue. I sound unbelieveably ridiculous.

The trilogy has only been seen by a select group of rural West Virginians, a cluster of film connoisseurs in Florida, and, confusingly, someone in Michigan. And actually, it's pretty funny. The kind of funny that's on purpose. Like the following scene:

Discoman™ and his nemesis Dallas (the washed-up rock star) are about to have a duel, for which Dallas shows up on time whilst Discoman™ is a wee bit tardy

Discoman™: Sorry I'm late, it's kind of cold out here, I had to put a coat on. (toward camera) Remember kids, never go outside, when it's cold, without a coat.
Dallas (toward camera): Yeah, and remember - a rolling stone is worth two in the bush. (Discoman™ counts on his fingers) C'mon Discoman™, let's go down the hill and fight. (They start walking away.)
Discoman™: I will vanquish your life!
Dallas: Ha ha ha, that's good. That's a good one.

Eh, maybe it's one of those things that you have to see - it's all in the delivery. Anyway, I have some Discoman™ footage converted to mpg, but the title character just graduated from law school. And Discoman™, Esq. would TOTALLY take his newly-minted law degree and sue me for copyright infringement. That would be worse than a sketch on SNL that features Fred Armisen. Oh, except that one in the lifeboat - but it's only good because Christopher Walken is in it.

So, will someone tell me if I'm evil because I feel better about losing my kitty? I'm feeling guilty. But I'm still more sane than Tom Cruise, yet not as cool as Discoman™.

Things that make me feel better - lots of Bible verses and Constantine Maroulis falling down

I'm feeling a little better - I wish I was needed more at the lab, because it's hard to be in a kitty-less house all day when we're so used to having one underfoot. (And he was always underfoot - he was Mr. High Maintenance after he woke up from his nap(s). Gotta get in his 20 hours of sleep per day, you know, and then have 700 drinks out of the bathtub, and various things thrown for him to chase/jump at/watch fly by.) So Mom and I have just been driving around, wandering through the mall, and spending a lot of time with family. They aren't really animal lovers, but they love us and so when we hurt, they hurt too. They've really been a haven for us these past few days.

Other things that have been helpful:

The comments that you guys left on my two sad posts. Really. And the emails. *mwah*

My little God's Promises For Your Every Need book, which I think everyone should have a copy of. Over the years (or at least since I was about 16 and started having spells of crazy) I've shed a lot of anxious or sad tears of healing over the verses in these book, and the comfort that their truths bring.

Blessed by God, even the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies, and the God of all comfort;
Who comforteth us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort them which are in any trouble, by the comfort wherewith we ourselves are comforted of God. II Corinthians 1:3-4

For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come,
Nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord. Romans 8:38-39

Humble yourselves therefore under the mighty hand of God, that He may exalt you in due time:
Casting all your care upon Him; for He careth for you. I Peter 5:6-7

When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee: when thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned; neither shall the flame kindle upon thee. Isaiah 43:2

For we have not an high priest who cannot be touched with the feeling of our infirmities; but was in all points tempted like we are, yet without sin.
Let us therefore come boldly unto the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy, and find grace to help in time of need. Hebrews 4:15-16

And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away. Revelation 21:4

I've also read the section on grief in Charles Stanley's Handbook for Christian Living a few times, and I really like the last paragraph:

Discussing each why in your heart and each feeling of dismay with the One who loves you and understands is the most healing thing you can do. This Friend will never say, "Snap out of it!" This Wonderful Counselor will listen to every feeling. He is not shocked by anger, even if it is directed toward Him. He understands every human emotion and is never tired of repetitive laments. He is unchanged through every changing emotion you experience. He understands your need to grieve better than you do, but He longs "that ye sorrow not, even as others which have no hope" (1 Thessalonians 4:13).

Yesterday, Charles Stanley's sermon was on Walking With God Through The Dark Times - that God has a purpose for allowing darkness in our lives, that He is with us through them, and that we learn more in the darkness than in the light, which we can then share with others who are having difficulties later. Like the following, which I've seen a million times but that I love:

If you never felt pain,
Then how would you know that I am a Healer?

If you never had to pray,
How would you know that I am a Deliverer?

If you never had a trial,
How could you call yourself an overcomer?

If you never felt sadness,
How would you know that I am a Comforter?

If you never made a mistake,
How would you know that I am forgiving?

If you knew all,
How would you know that I will answer your questions?

If you never were in trouble,
How would you know that I will come to your rescue?

If you never were broken,
Then how would you know that I can make you whole?

If you never had a problem,
How would you know that I can solve them?

If you never had any suffering,
Then how would you know what I went through for you?

If you never went through the fire,
Then how would you become pure?

If I gave you all things,
How would you appreciate them?

If I never corrected you,
How would you know that I love you?

If you had all power,
Then how would you learn to depend on Me?

If your life was perfect,
Then what would you need Me for?

author unknown

God's promises to those who repent and follow Christ are so healing and comforting.

In addition, I work with a guy who makes me laugh. Laughing is always good.

And finally, I found a 30-second video clip at EJB dot com of Constantine Maroulis doing a kick, for no reason in particular, and then falling down. And oh my heck, that is funny.

Constantine falls down (please right-click and "save as", don't steal my precious bandwidth. The file is about 6.5MB)

Maybe, every day at 9:51PM, Constantine likes to kick at nothing, fall down, and then sing I Believe I Can Fly with a local news reporter. Who knows? He is a self-proclaimed thespian, after all, and therefore must be complicated beyond belief.

In conclusion, I think I'm going to be okay. Thanks again for the condolences, y'all. :-) Am I heartless for thinking of going to the local shelter for another kitty? Not to replace my sweetie Cinders, of course, but to try to fill the cat-sized hole in my heart and my house. And some of these guys are awfully cute.

Edited because I forgot to add this picture that I think is so sweet, which is in a brochure that we got from our vet about grieving over the death of a family pet:

But there's a quote from James Herriot below the picture (which follows a section on euthanasia) that says: "Like all vets I hated doing this, painless though it was, but to me there has always been a comfort in the knowledge that the last thing these helpless animals knew was the sound of a friendly voice and the touch of a gentle hand." What breaks my heart right in two is that our sweetie that we loved so - the last thing he knew was pain and fear. It would be so much easier to take if it hadn't happened that way, and I think that it will always break my heart to think of it. I hope the way we treated him for his too-short life makes up for the way it ended, at least a little bit.

I'm sorry to be such a downer lately - I'm just trying to work through this heartache.

One more edit - this morning, I was thinking of a song that we used to sing at church camp called Consider the Lilies, and it reminded me that God takes care of all of His creation, including the animals. It may sound stupid, but since the most heartbreaking thing about this situation is the pain and fear that we always tried to protect Cinders from - how do I know that God didn't somehow numb him so he didn't feel it? I know that sounds crazy, but it brings me some peace to know that something may have been done to protect Cinders from the pain and the fear. I don't know that that's true - but I do know that God looks after the animals - He says that He does. And I've always loved that song:

Consider the lilies, they don't toil nor spin
But there's not a king with more splendor than them
Consider the sparrows, they don't plant nor sow
But they're fed by the Master
Who watches them grow

We have a heavenly Father above
With eyes full of mercy
And a heart full of love
He really cares when your head is bowed low
Consider the lilies and then you will know

May I introduce you
To this Friend of mine
Who hangs out the stars
And tells the sun when to shine
And kisses the flowers
Each morning with dew
But He's not too busy to care about you!

We have a heavenly Father above
With eyes full of mercy
And a heart full of love
He really cares when your head is bowed low
Consider the lilies and then you will know

But I miss my little guy.

I haven't felt like posting for a few days - I am still so sad over the death of my poor little kitty, I can hardly stand it. I've been reading some things online about grief over the loss of a pet, and a lot of them deal with euthanasia, which they say allows the pet to die without pain or fear.

My little sweetie had both when he was killed by the dog, and I just can't stand it. I can't. He was an indoor cat and he was always underfoot, and no matter what anyone says, if you're around an animal a lot, you can tell that they have distinct personalities, and they have these little idiosyncrasies that you get so used to. I would give any of my material possessions if I could go back to Wednesday morning and be outside so that I could have rescued him, instead of being inside doing whatever stupid thing I was doing.

I also feel like a crazy person - yesterday at the lab, I said that I couldn't believe how sad I am, and one of my coworkers said, "I know - it's been what, two days?" Anybody that's been through the loss of a pet - especially such a traumatic loss for the poor little guy - when am I going to feel better? I just don't want to do anything. My little Cinders stole our hearts, and pets love you unconditionally, and we loved him right back.

Thank you guys for all of your kind words on my other post. I feel like there are so few people that I can talk to right now, that wouldn't think I was nuts. And even my other cat, Lucky, is sad. He keeps lying in the spots around the house that Cinders liked to be - he misses his little buddy. They both liked to nap on my bed:

I have it in perspective - you know, I know it's a cat, not a human, and that people are dealing with suffering that is so much worse. I know that. But it doesn't change the fact that my heart is broken right now, and I don't know when my sadness will go away.

I am so, so sad. A dog has killed my little black cat - we let him out this morning for awhile, like we always do because he loves to go outside, and a dog caught him and killed him. I know some people will think I'm stupid because "it's just a stupid cat", but we've had him for five years and he just followed us all over the place, all around the house, and he was such a sweetie. I am going to miss him, because he was such good company around the house. I am just brokenhearted over it. I hate that he died so viciously. Mom and Dad and I are so sad. He just couldn't get away from that horrible dog that someone didn't keep tied up.

I know some think it's ridiculous to get attached to an animal, but I always do. It's going to take me awhile to get over this one.

R.I.P. Cinders. We loved you and will miss you so much. I'm so sorry that I wasn't out there to protect you when you needed help.

Since it's June 1st, my bandwidth rolls back to zero and I don't have to pay by the MB anymore. Hooray! I'll put all my mpeg and mp3 links back up later. And I should find out what my overage charges ended up being, but I'm afraid to look. Also, songstress? You are a doll. Thanks for helping out. :-)

UPDATE: Okay, I looked - $48. That's not horrible - it could have been worse.